


Hello, welcome home

by JellyTotCat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Communication Failure, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Flavored Lube, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, No beta we fall like Crowley, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Teasing, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyTotCat/pseuds/JellyTotCat
Summary: My love for those damn dorbs ineffable husbands and for Billie Eilish have now become inextricably linked.My brother said I'm a grebo now but I don't even care.As with a lot of peeps, I had to get in on the fanfic of these two characters that have just taken over our lives!Source canon is both tv & book- correct me where I'm wrong!Explicit rating is for the last chapter





	1. I don't wanna be us anymore

**Author's Note:**

> My love for those damn dorbs ineffable husbands and for Billie Eilish have now become inextricably linked.  
My brother said I'm a grebo now but I don't even care.  
As with a lot of peeps, I had to get in on the fanfic of these two characters that have just taken over our lives!  
Source canon is both tv & book- correct me where I'm wrong!  
Explicit rating is for the last chapter

Aziraphale stood outside the storefront of his bookstore, momentarily confused by the soft sound of music he heard from within. 

The voice singing was hauntingly beautiful and almost heartbreaking- not exactly the sound of intruders he thought, consciously steadying himself. 

_'Burning cities_  
_ And napalm skies_  
_ Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes_' 

It had been weeks now since the start of times, the aftermath of the apocowasn't, the armageddn't (those involved couldn't quite agree on a term for the averted End of the World) and although his and Crowley's respective performances seemed to have granted them some reprieve from both sets of other-worldly powers that were- he still couldn't let himself entirely relax. He doubted he ever really would. 

Which was why, despite his inclination that no angel, fallen or otherwise, would break in to his home and play mournful music, he still pushed his aura out slightly to confirm his suspicions- that Crowley had let himself in and was waiting for his return. He felt the faint buzz of Crowley inside- when he felt for it, it always struck him with an intensity that belied Crowley's decidedly languid appearance- his essence felt like a static shock, like the hum of something electric, sparking brightly in the darkness.

_'I've never fallen from quite this high'_

He walked through the door to find Crowley sprawled in a disarranged heap on the floor, bottle of some indistinguishable spirit in his hand- not wine nor expensive and definitely not akin to their usual high-standard fare. His other hand pushed his torso off the floor as Aziraphale walked in, throwing a greeting out-

"Azzzzzzziphaaaaal" Half the syllables were missing and the remaining few were slurred. His eyes were probably bleary behind those dark shades, his usually sharp jacket and shirt dishevelled. His hair was almost on end, it's usually coiffed state brought to ruin by so many fingers thrust anxiously through them. He had been waiting, and drinking, for a while.

"Crowley what on earth are you doing!" Aziraphale said, moving towards his spot on the ground. 

"S'waiting for you!" Aziraphale bent down to lift Crowley from the floor, half dragging his lax body to slump across one of the overstuffed fauteuil armchairs.

"And why, pray tell, were you doing that from the floor" Aziraphale asked, half in alarm. They drank together- copious amounts, but good quality, for millennia.

Why was he this far gone already, by himself, here?

"S'good a place as any" he answered with a lopsided grin. 

"But why are you so inebriated? What's wrong?" Crowley didn't seem upset but he certainly wasn't alright. 

"Oh hush angel. Why does everything always have to be _wrong_ with you all the time, why can't it just be _right" _This came out garbled, and Aziraphale only understood it due to having spent many an hour conversing with an alcohol-sodden Crowley. 

"I won't talk to you like this Crowley, you make no sense. Sober up immediately". He'd get nothing coherent out of him in this state. He waved a hand at the phonograph to quiet the music while he tried to focus on the situation at hand. 

"Naaaaaaaaah" Crowley slurred, leaning back heavily into the curved sofa back. 

"I've thingss to say, and yur gonna listen, and I've to say 'em, and I.. wait wha was'a sayin' ?" 

"I have no idea Crowley. But I shan't entertain it while you're like this. I'm going to do some reading and you can sleep off whatever, _this_, is." He said as he turned and started toward the back room to fetch a tartan blanket. 

"Oh you never entertain anythin'. So. 'M going. Gu-bye" he said, and stood up with the certainty of a dramatic demon who was heavily imbued with distilled confidence- that is, with a rush of energy and a graceless stumble when his body didn't obey his wishes. Aziraphale turned back around with a start, a concerned hand stretched out automatically to support the stumbling figure. 

"Oh for someone's sake Crowley, you're being ridiculous! Sit down and have one of your naps, and in the morning we can discuss..." 

"No angel." Crowley interrupted. His voice was firm despite a slight hiccup. 

"N'more talking". He flopped back down on the chair with his head in his hands. Aziraphale started back toward him, but Crowley held a hand up in his direction, the other still hiding his face. 

"Don't. Just.... don't." Aziraphale stopped where he was, shocked. Crowley's tone had abruptly switched from dramatic petulance to flat and dead. When he looked up from his hand his glasses had slipped down his nose, revealing his aureate eyes- they shone disturbingly in the low-light and Aziraphale found it almost painful to see the emotion in them reflect his broken tone. His sharp cheekbones cast a gaunt look across his handsome face- if Aziraphale could just reach out and touch them, maybe-

But this wasn't the time. He waited quietly for whatever it was Crowley was so worked up to say.

"I can't spend another moment with you, talking, pretending like everything is ok. Like this is _normal_. What even are we" It didn't really sound like a question, and when Aziraphale went to answer Crowley interrupted again. 

"No. Don't say friends. Don't say anything. Don't bother. This was a stupid idea. I was gonna try and... _talk" _He said it distastefully, like a dirty word. 

"But I got nervous, then I got drunk, then I got _mad_ and now I'm just... done. With talking. With... _this". _Another murky word as he swept his hand around the store, encompassing them both. 

"Crowley, my dear, _please_, I don't under-" Aziraphale had moved forward again, not really thinking but desperate to do anything to wipe the despair from Crowley's face, from his body, from his words. 

"Then you never will. So don't bother. I'm not waiting around anymore" He got up again, steadier this time, and made again towards the door. In the background another song had started playing. 

'_Don't you know I'm no good for you?__  
__I've learned to lose you can't afford to'_

Aziraphale went after him instinctively, abject at the thought of Crowley feeling so distraught, of his best friend leaving... again. He wouldn't let him leave again. 

"Waiting for what!" He asked as he reached for the departing demon's arm, for a hand, a shoulder- Crowley batted his attempts away with one shrug of his shoulder. Rage boiled up inside of him- at Aziraphale for not getting it, or at least pretending not to- and at himself, for caring so much, for acting so emotionally. What had he thought would happen? That they'd have a nice dinner and then a drink and then a conversation along the lines of _yes well, we've been on this earth together for a long time and now we're free from the constraints of our work obligations we can act on our base desires and have a fine and bloody-dandy life together_. But of course the Angel's ingrained rectitude and fear would win out. Why would he be worth more than that.

_'Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own_

_And I could lie, say I like it like that'_

Aziraphale could only stand in shock- Crowley had never, ever resisted his touch, a friendly arm, a jovial pat. He had always instigated contact, crossing their natural boundaries: the same as he did unthinkingly, against what should have been his better judgement.

"I've been waiting for _you_! For so, so long! I'm not stupid" He spat the last word. 

"I can _feel_ lust like you can feel love. But I thought, no. I'll wait. Wait for Aziraphale. Like always. But not anymore." 

Crowley gave a sharp bark of a laugh. He was almost talking to himself now, in a cynical, scolding tone. 

"6000 years give or take- you'd think I'd have learnt some patience. But no. A few more weeks did it. I can't anymore." 

Aziraphale tried one more time.

"Cr-"

He sounded suddenly sombre, sober and his face was achingly, devastatingly sad. 

"No. If the end of the world didn't do it, nothing will" Accompanied by a half-hearted shrug, an unconvincing affectation of nonchalance. 

"And I can't take it any longer" This last bit in almost a whisper, all traces of anger gone, replaced entirely by resignation. 

'_Let's just let it go__  
__Let me let you go'_

And then he was gone. Vanished, willed away by his own anger. In his incredibly drunken state, that he managed an entire conversation was impressive enough- miracle-ing away into the ether especially so. He left behind only a faint wisp of his scent- something musky and cloying- and the forlorn music. 


	2. I don't even think about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These weren't secret locations by any means, but they'd always felt special, linked to memories that lit up in Aziraphale's mind. Special because Crowley had been there with him.  
Because he loved Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been taking pictures of this years cygnets in St James Park as they grow- them cuties are the real #inspo  
They're getting big but it'll be a few more months before they turn white :D  
Progress pic at the bottom

_'I wanna be alone_  
_Alone with you - does that make sense?'_  
  
Aziraphale had sat, stunned, since Crowley had abruptly vanished from his home. He let the record playing wind to an end. When he stood to move the stylus back to the outside of the vinyl he noticed the Long Play record was bright red. He listened to the whole thing again. And again. He was only mildly perturbed by two things- that one of the songs that played wasn't listed on the record label, and occasional curse words that niggled gently against his sense of propriety.  
  
But for the most part he just listened. And felt. He usually preferred to let the musical tones of Beethoven and Bach push delightfully at his human sensibilities (Moonlight Sonata didn't need any words to have that effect) -and yet the breathy vocals that sung out from the record that Crowley left behind pulled hard in his chest, and he found himself getting more and more het up with each play through- particularly on the songs whose lyrics cut deep into his heart.  
  
_'I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain_  
_It's not like me to be so mean_  
_You're all I wanted'_  
  
Before long he felt wetness on his cheeks, and reached up surprised to find he was crying. Not huge heaving sobs, but a steady leak from his wide eyes. Wide with shock, at the events that had just occurred, and at his own overly-emotional responsive to the songs he was listening to. He'd felt human many times- over the vast expanse of time he'd spent on earth, and particularly in the last few weeks. But not like this.   
  
He decided he needed to clear his head. Their conversation had seemed so brief and so recent, but he had spent hours lost in music and thought, and rays of sun had begun to push their way into the store.   
A 20 minute walk later and he found himself in St. James Park. He hadn't really thought about his destination but his feet seemed to know where to go. He'd taken to visiting the park alone, just to see how the baby swans were getting along. Crowley only had so much patience for his delighted reactions to the 7 or so grey cygnets that had appeared over the spring.

Apparently he was very good at testing that patience, he thought to himself glumly, as he threw handfuls of bird seed onto the water of the lake, watching the now brown swans glide and bob around the shelducks, pochards and wigeons. He paused briefly to glare at some tourists who were throwing hunks of bread at the other waterfowl (after learning of the negative effects of this popular pastime from a documentary on birds, he had given some very pointed stares and even some polite yet firm lectures when he encountered the behaviour) and then wandered over to the very modern (in his opinion) but soothing cafe within the park. Birdsong floated among the few early-morning customers and the avian wallpaper allowed him to feel like he was still in nature whilst enjoying his pot of earl grey and French toast (with bacon, berry compote, greek yoghurt and maple syrup).  
  
After taking his tea Aziraphale ambled slowly back to his apartment. He thought the fresh air and wildlife would clear his head but it only made him feel worse. Every landmark he passed just reminded him of Crowley. And by landmark he didn't necessarily mean the historical monuments marked on maps, but the land that they had marked, together. The bench they usually sat on in the park, the cut-throughs they usually took (particularly through the horse-guards arch- a stunning view and a slightly less busy thoroughfare).

These weren't secret locations by any means, but they'd always felt special, linked to memories that lit up in Aziraphale's mind. Special because Crowley had been there with him.   
Because he loved Crowley. 

"Oh" he thought to himself. He loved Crowley.

Well of course he did, in his usual angelic all-beings-are-loved-agapē-way. And also as the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had, companion through the ages, the true meaning of philia. But, he realised, with the slow dawning of a celestial being inhabiting a corporeal form, he was also in love with him. Eros. The love he had always struggled to comprehend, whose meaning has always been too intertwined with the other side to allow inspection, or introspection.   
Coming as close to cursing as he'd been since being discorporated, he picked up his pace and made his way back to the bookshop with distinctly more purpose than his journey away from it.   
Books were exactly what he needed right now. He needed research and information and fortunately, if you were one to believe in fate or destiny, you could say he had been preparing for this moment for the past 200 years. Books would have the answer to the most novel predicament he now found himself in.

So engrossed he became in remembering, sourcing and consuming the required tomes, he forgot to stop even for _cocoa_, marking the night falling only when he found his eyes straining in the diminishing light, noticing the dawns only when an occasional would-be-customer made the mistake of trying to get into the store (could they not _read_ the sign). But Aziraphale barely even registered their existence.

**⚕**

Which is the position Crowley saw him in when he had decided to accidentally find himself in the area.

Crowley had spent the days following his drunken outburst sulking in his flat. He had slept away his drunkenness (and subsequent hangover- so bad miracling it away might have made it hurt _more_) and after spending some time in fading annoyance, and then some more time preparing his excuse when Azirphale got in contact, he then became concerned when no contact was made. The angel was probably _ok_, he'd feel it if he wasn't- but it couldn't hurt to stop by, pretend absolutely nothing had happened, and then carry on acting like a mournful puppy. Good plan.

And so, over a week after the regrettable _incident_ he sauntered past the bookstore, ready to feign indifference and then suggest a spot of lunch. Besides, Aziraphale was probably worried about him- in a friendly way of course- and was too afraid of the reaction had he reached out. Crowley noticed the store looked empty for the time of day (even considering the slightly hostile environment Aziraphale cultivated) and peeked through a window- He spied Aziraphale knelt on the floor, numerous books spread about him. He was reading avidly, a small notebook to hand, an antique Waterman fountain pen in the other (the most modern writing utensil he would use) and he seemed... content. Focused. So much so that his pristine jacket was slung over the back of a chair, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His curls looked wilder than usual, and he seemed to have no concern for the creases that would be worked into his trousers and waistcoat from his position as he sat back onto his heels, holding a certain page up for inspection. He looked beautiful, and Crowley was struck with the thought that he was like one of Gian lorenzo Bernini's kneeling angels. 

Crowley heaved a sigh from deep within. He had been selfish. He was so hung up on his own unfulfilled desires he hadn't considered Aziraphale's needs. He'd been holding him back- always hanging around, pestering him. He seemed so earnest in his focus, that even though Crowley could see only a partial profile of his face, he could picture the small furrowed brow on Aziraphale's face, imagine the satisfaction of his expression when he found what he was looking for.

Maybe now Crowley was out of the way, he could finally find it. 

And so he didn't make himself known, and he didn't stay too much longer- he just a last lingering glance to the pale scrap of skin showing between his starched collar and white-gold curls. Wondered how long he could stay away. Then he left.

**⚕**

Aziraphale thought he felt something- a heat across the back of his neck, a flutter somewhere in his chest- but he didn't have time to dither. He needed to focus- to do whatever he needed to do as soon as possible (once he figured out what that was)- Crowley said he wasn't going to wait for him anymore.

He started, as one naturally did when considering the concept of love, by rifling through Shakespeare's sonnets, but didn't read through any entire works for the dual reasons of a) having seen them performed (as they were indeed intended to be consumed) the first time around, and b) this affording him the knowledge that the well-known Romeo & Juliet was hardly the _most _concerning love story when it came to death, crossed wires and unsuccessful couples.

(He stopped briefly when, in a moment of irritation at the constraints of the physical books he had accumulated (and he never thought the day would come) he decided to foray into the digital world. A 5 minute march later and he was in the huge technology store in Covent Garden. He felt soothed by the soft white and wood interior but perplexed by the array of shiny gadgetry. Fortunately a helpful young man, with short wavy curtains of hair, the abundant enthusiasm of a child and the advanced technological knowledge of someone he agreed marked them as a genius of their time, assisted him in purchasing the least confusing set-up possible.)

Newly equipped with the world wide web at his disposal, he found a further wealth of so-called advice on love which only left him further confused;

He tried John Gray's 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus' on the advice of the various people talking online, but he couldn't fathom whether it was he or Crowley who were the elastic band. Erich Fromm's 'The Art of Loving', rather surprisingly given the title, felt too clinical, and 'Stendhal: On Love' too analytical. Goethe's 'Roman Elegies' were beautiful but altogether unhelpful by way of instruction and 'Le Grand Meaulnes' by Alaine-Fournier just made him sniffle.

Eventually he came back to Plato, whom he felt most understood his current situation. 

He read 'Lysis' first, hoping to glean some form of insight or direction. He felt understood but not soothed-

_'Do you mean, I said, that if only one of them loves the other, they are mutual friends'_

He moved to 'Symposium', and his heart swelled when Diotima of Mantineia tells Socrates that love _'is neither mortal nor immortal, but in a mean between the two [...] intermediate between the divine and the mortal' _For that is where he and Crowley lived- between the two worlds.

And finally to 'Phaedrus', from which he finally found his direction. He realised, while reading those ancient texts, that he already knew how to love. He'd been doing it since he was made. And how to love Crowley- since they met. Not that their love was instantaneous, nor even confirmed- it may yet be that of Lysis- mutual friends alone. But he had to be brave. As brave as Crowley had always been for him. And this alone gave him hope that his love was not unreciprocated, and that it was not yet too late.

'_Or who would desert his beloved or fail him in the hour of danger? The veriest coward would become an inspired hero, equal to the bravest, at such a time; Love would inspire him.'_

He shook himself out of his literary stupur. Bravery was his answer. That and the truth.

How long had he been like this? He surveyed the disarray of books strewn around him. He stumbled up, grabbed his jacket from where it had stayed, briefly shook it to remove the light layer of dust that had settled on it, and strolled out of the door.

He went straight to Crowley's flat. He was nervous, but excited. He was _ready_, ready for whatever came next.

He rang the doorbell expectantly. He hadn't been back since the night before they had taken each others place to fool their respective head offices. A night so fraught with worry and preparation he hardly remembered a single detail.

No answer. He rang again. Crowley didn't usually go out- not since that night, not unless it was to visit _him. _

So where was he? Aziraphale concentrated, seeking the spark of Crowley in his building, the same way he had done upon hearing music from his store. And he felt nothing. It felt cold, bereft. 

No Crowley. 

Where could Crowley have gone? And without saying goodbye?

It was too late. He was too late.

And then it started to rain. Aziraphale looked heavenwards, his usual restrained manner cracking at the seams at the pathetic fallacy of it.

"_NOW? _Now it rains, of all the... ruddy times the sun had belied the state of things! Now it rains! This is rubbi-...stup-... It's BULLSHIT!" He felt a small spark of satisfaction at breaking his no-curse rule, and begun his sullen trudge back to the shop.

He arrived back home- sodden, despairing, and ready to try sleeping properly for the first time. He was ready to just forget _everything_, from the sheer amount of time he'd spent, no _wasted_, in self-delusion, his ridiculous revelation, his belief that books would hold the answer to his questions when if he'd spent less time focused on them he might have come to this conclusion sooner, his stunted response when Crowley gave him the perfect opportunity to see what they meant to each other, the embarrassing amount of _hope_ he had felt just hours ago- up to his recent fruitless search for his friend. 

He pushed the door open slowly, reluctant to accept defeat and succumb to a miserable, lonely life. 

"Hey angel" a voice lilted out of the gloom, a glint of yellow eyes, thr soft glow of copper hair. The only voice he wanted to hear, the only face he wanted to see- so much so that he was worried it was a hallucination magiced up by his cold, unhappy state.

He cautiously stepped further into his shop.

"Cro...Crowley?"

**⚕ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song quoted (In italics and between apostrophes) is  
"Hostage" sung by Billie Eilish, written and produced by Finneas O'Connell, Darkroom and Interscope Records  
Works quoted (In italics and between apostrophes) are Lysis, Symposium and Phaedrus from the 1st volume of Plato's dialogues, from ≈387 BC


	3. I don't have to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale moved into the tiled space and hesitated only for a second. It may have been his earlier realisation of love that stripped away some of his usual propriety, or the pull of the scented water in front of him- but he shucked his shirt off and went to start on his trouser buttons.  
Crowley averted his eyes and went to leave the room.
> 
> He heard a soft voice behind him- 
> 
> "Stay"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I'm earning that E rating guys- also a fair bit of curse words because that's just how I live my life.

"You're... you're here?" Said Aziraphale, shivering from a combination of shock and the cold of the rain that soaked his entire body. Crowley couldn't decipher the range of emotions that flitted over the angel's face.  
"Um, yeah angel. That ok?" Dammit. He knew this was a stupid idea. He had decided, in his infinite wisdom, to just check in on Aziraphale. Couldn't hurt. He probably hadn't even noticed he'd been gone. Maybe they could have a drink. Go back to old times. Yeah, he could do that. He had been wrong. Anything was better than nothing. He would be selfish. He was a demon after all.  
  
"Well of c-course my dear boy, I'm jjjust... surprised. I was looking for you-"   
"You were looking for _me_?"   
"Yes. Well I o-only went to your apppartment, I'm not e-entirely sure what other establishments you freeequent..."   
Crowley felt hope pique in his stomach, but tamped it down. He was about to act suave, nonchalant, go back to his usual sarcastic facade- when he noticed Aziraphale's stutter and the puddle forming around him. The odd tension between them had distracted them both.   
"You're soaking angel" he said tenderly, moving forward. Aziraphale just watched him warily. Which was fair, considering how he had acted the last time they spoke.   
"Let me help" he reached forward and started peeling the sodden jacket off of the Angel's broad shoulders. They had both restrained themselves from working any miracles, frivolous or otherwise, just until they were sure they really were to be left alone. Certain things miracled themselves, out of habit- the food in their fridges, the way their bodies functioned. But nothing overt, nothing that would once again alert their respective head offices to their existence.  
And so after instructing Aziraphale to strip the rest of his wet clothes off and ignoring the sounds of protest, he went to the small kitchen to put the kettle on. He peaked his head out as it boiled.   
Aziraphale had managed to remove his wet shoes and socks, soaking waistcoat and bowtie, and now stood unsure.   
"I'll leave your cocoa here. I put somethin' extra in to warm you up. Drink it and I'll go start a bath"   
"Really Ccc-rowley you needn't go to all this bother-"   
"S'fine angel" he didn't really know why he was acting like this. Was it a sort of apology? He didn't even know if the flat upstairs had a bath- but he assumed it would. Aziraphale was a hedonist when it came to earthly pleasures, after all. Crowley stopped himself short before imagining the one earthly pleasure _he_ couldn't stop thinking about.  
He found the bathroom- a palette of warm honeys and tans- and filled the reasonably sized bath tub with piping hot water. He tipped in some Seed to Skin bath nectar which of _course_ the angel had.  
He heard the angel come up the narrow stairs behind him, looking tired, unsure but slightly pinker in the cheeks, and watched his beautiful blue eyes light up at the sight of the steaming hot and fragrant bath.  
Aziraphale moved into the tiled space and hesitated only for a second. It may have been his earlier realisation of love that stripped away some of his usual propriety, or the pull of the scented water in front of him- but he shucked his shirt off and went to start on his trouser buttons.  
Crowley averted his eyes and went to leave the room.  
He heard a soft voice behind him-   
"Stay"   
He stopped in the doorway, one hand grasping the frame. He felt his grip tighten, knuckles turning white. Then he pushed forward, whipping himself down the stairs. Aziraphale was obviously feeling lonely, or was enjoying the care. Sometimes the angel forgot they weren't in ancient Rome anymore, with shared public baths.  
Crowley could have stayed. He could have carried on helping to disrobe Aziraphale. He could have tenderly washed and soaped him. He could have sat on the edge of the tub, facing the wall, chatting amicably. He could have thrown them both in bath, naked, bodies furiously thrashing together. He could have done any number of things. But they were all too difficult to bear or too risky. If he wanted to try and preserve the friendship they had built over millennia, his only option was to throw himself on the downstairs sofa, nursing the bottle of Courvoisier XO Imperial Cognac he'd splashed into Aziraphale's cocoa. He tried to focus on the smooth burn to distract him from the scene he knew was playing out just above him. It didn't work. He tipped his head back on the sofa and pretended he could see through the ceiling. Could see Aziraphale baring his smooth expanse of skin, could watch the warmth seep into his body, watch the flush of delicate pink creep up from his toes to his ivory throat.  
No. Stop that. Not helpful. Not now. Not when we're still in this delicate balance. Whatever the outcome, they needed to talk first.

**⚕**  
  
_"Why did I say that"_ Aziraphale thought to himself as he felt the warmth return to his limbs. He usually adored the simple luxury of a well-drawn bath. Now it gave him the silence to ruminate on his quite frankly stupid request. What did he think would happen? He didn't actually think at all. He just wanted to keep the light that was Crowley with him. He'd been so caught up in reading about love, he hadn't stopped to think about how much he missed seeing it in action.  
_"Stupid stupid fool. He probably thought it was a clumsy seduction. Or a childish, pouting request."_ He pulled himself out of the bath, damp and gleaming but warm, clean and soft again. He ruffled his hair slightly with a plush fluffy towel, rubbed some Neal's Yard Remedies Lavender and Tea Tree Body Powder over himself and then dithered slightly over how to re-dress. Back into smart attire? It was too late in the day for that, and he honestly didn't think it would change how their next conversation went. He decided on some soft flannel pyjama bottoms (newer than most of his wardrobe but a dark tartan pattern nonetheless) and a fleece lined jumper in a soft blue that matched his eyes (at least that is what the _very_ attentive shop assistant had said). He took a deep breath in. However tonight went- it was time for him to tell the truth of how he felt.

**⚕**  
  
Crowley heard Aziraphale padding lightly down the stairs. He'd grown restless and after finishing the cognac, had begun pacing the store. He wandered over to the record player, and switched on whatever was already there.  
Ethereal music lilted softly through the shop. Not _popular_ music by any stretch. But not old either... something ambient and beautiful. Crowley was pretending to inspect the record sleeve when Aziraphale quietly announced himself with a polite exclamation.   
"Um... thank you. For your help"   
Crowley peered up at the angel, looking much happier now he was clean and dry, but still nervously wringing his hands.  
What did he have to be nervous about? Was he about to kick him out? He noticed Aziraphale's choice of clothing- lounge wear, which he still managed to carry as if he were ready to attend a dinner and dance. Maybe this was his way of saying- time to go, bugger off out of my shop.  
  
**⚕**  
  
"Do you er...like this musical arrangement?" Aziraphale asked, moving tentatively forward. Last time Crowley was here, he'd fled from Aziraphale's touch. He didn't want to scare him off again.   
"Not heard 'em before. Seems pretty new for you angel" he replied nonchalantly. He stopped for a minute to consider the combination of falsetto singing and emotive instrumentals. There was an element of classical music in it, but also something new and urgent.   
"It's good. Who is it?"   
"They're an Icelandic band called Sigur Rós" Aziraphale answered, taking another cautious step forward. Crowley just watched him.   
"I think... I've discovered that, just because something seems _new_ and _different_\- doesn't mean it isn't good. It's just the same ancient notes that have always been there. Just... laced together differently" as he said this he reached his arms forward. He felt lulled by the soft music and the peace that filled him from seeing Crowley after being so concerned to find his flat empty. He'd been so _excited_ to see him, to tell him how he felt, _finally_\- but now all he wanted to do is hold him. So he did. He stepped forward, moving slowly but surely- he encircled the demons slim waist, his soft arms weaving under black clad sinews, feeling muscles stiffen slightly under his hands. Crowley was about 3 inches taller than him, but his usual slouch lessened the difference. He felt Crowley relax a little. Aziraphale took this as permission, and released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He turned his face slightly and rested a cheek against a bony shoulder, and then hugged a little tighter. He breathed in the musky scent, bathed in the warmth of the lithe body he was holding. He didn't allow any thoughts at all- not of hope or of worry. He simply _felt_ and it was glorious in its simplicity and its comfort.  
He almost whined at rush of cold air left behind when Crowley pulled back, his brow furrowed.   
"We need to talk, angel."   
He backed away, trembling slightly, and sunk down into the sofa. Aziraphale sighed but sat himself primly on the other end. They did indeed.

**⚕**  
  
Crowley sat for a while, steadying himself. Having Aziraphale wrap his arms around him had felt... _heavenly_ dare he even think it. Soft and warm and _safe_. But the closeness was making it so difficult.   
_"Why did I have to get stupidly drunk and start this whole damn thing"_ he scolded himself. He was considering giving some form of apology, then moving on swiftly to try and regain some form of the relative normalcy they had tentatively established.   
"I'm... m'sorry to have let myself in. Didn't mean to... interrupt your evenin" he started.   
"No, please don't apologise. I'm glad you were here."   
"Yeah well. I was... I dunno actually. We haven't spoken in a while..."   
"No I suppose not. I do apologise. I've been reading Plato you see-"   
"Yeah I know. Not about Plato, but the reading. I stopped by" he spoke to Aziraphale's questioning quirked eyebrow.   
"And I saw you, surrounded by your books."   
"Ah. Yes that's actually why I came to find you." Aziraphale leant forward, one hand on the sofa and the other reaching out to rest gently on Crowley's knee. Had he heard the sharp intake of breath this caused? Had he noticed the combination of pain and delight that flickered across his face? More than ever he was glad he wore his dark shades indoors.

"-and then Socrates asks Hippothales to _meet_ Lysis himself and then-"   
Aziraphale was talking about one of Plato's dialogues or something. He'd lost the ability to focus as soon as the angel's hand had met his leg, and he didn't know how long he would last before another outburst broke loose. At least he wasn't as plastered as last time.   
"Aziraphale, I really did need to talk to you about our... friendship." He interrupted.   
"Yes my dear, me too" He answered animatedly.   
"And that's what brings me to Eryximachus, and how the coexistence of opposites-" Crowley tried to stop himself from snapping. How was this relevant? Why have this conversation now?  
And how were Aziraphale's eyes so hypnotic? He couldn't help but stare into them as the angel became more animated about whatever it was he was blathering on about: Crowley could usually listen attentively for hours, or at least maintain the image that he was, but after their short time apart, and considering what he knew he had to say next- be just wanted to drink in the emotion that played across Aziraphale's face, the shapes his plush lips made instead of the words coming out, the pleasant resonance of his voice instead of the sentences they formed. He watched as Aziraphale leant even closer, letting him see even more clearly the myriad of blue tones in his eyes, the smell of lavender and neroli wafting over.  
Crowley couldn't take any more. It was all too much. He needed to end this blasted conversation and go back home and sulk. Maybe lay down and go back to thinking about Aziraphale in the bath. He growled internally at his own thought pattern. It was _exhausting_ to constantly move between annoyance at Aizraphale's obliviousness; and the ache he felt in his heart; a sad yearning to just speak to his friend, like they used to; and a fervent, burning _need_ that started deep in his stomach and usually ended with a lonely hand, sticky sheets and a lingering sense of self-loathing.  
He interrupted Aziraphale-

"Angel, I really can't deal with this right now-"  
He pushed himself up, and made once again for the door. _"I'm getting good at this"_ he thought to himself glumly and he stalked towards the exit.

**⚕**  
  
Aziraphale had been trying so very hard to get to his point but he kept getting lost along the way. He wanted to explain everything, make Crowley understand so he wouldn't push him away- again. He had tried to push gently into the demons space, testing the waters. And maybe he'd pushed too hard, because now Crowley was leaving, _again_, and he still hadn't even managed to tell him how he felt!   
No. He wouldn't let him run out again. He grabbed Crowley's arm, more firmly than the last time this exact scene had played out. Crowley spun around with an exasperated noise.

"Angel, let go-"

Maybe talking really wasn't the way forward. Isn't that what Crowley had said on that night? He forced courage up from some ancient vestige and moved his hands up to the sharp face opposite his own. He moved forward tentatively but with cautious purpose, and pressed his lips against Crowleys. He wasn't entirely sure how this was meant to go but at least it shut him up.   
Crowley's lips felt unexpectedly soft and warm, and then had opened slightly in surprise at Aziraphale's actions. Crowley had frozen to the spot, but he hadn't pulled away. Their breath intermingled, Crowley's spicy scent filling up Aziraphale's senses. His trepidation and initial shock at his own boldness was replaced with a spark of pure joy as Crowley relaxed into the kiss, leading the way with both his lips and his body.

**⚕**  
  
After recovering from the initial shock, Crowley let himself enjoy the sweet, slightly clumsy clash of lips, before gently moving his hands to the soft waist of the angel, and guiding him backwards to the nearest wall. Part of Crowley was so scared to break the moment, afraid to break whatever spell appeared to have fallen over them. But the overwhelming majority of him couldn't think of anything other than the soft body stood before him- he'd waited so long, imagined this so many times. And Aziraphale had initiated it, he thought joyfully.  
He pushed himself slowly against Aziraphale, so that the angel was pressed snugly between Crowley's slim frame and the wall behind him. Crowley pulled his head back, looking to Aziraphale as if for permission. The angel said nothing but desire shone across his eyes and that was enough right now. A low groan escaped from Crowley's throat, and he dipped his head to slowly press a kiss to Aziraphale's jawline. He wanted to savour every single second before he had to stop- before Aziraphale jumped away, claiming momentary insanity, or letting fear take over, or... enough, he told himself firmly. Enjoy the moment while you can.  
He worked his way along the soft cheek, sniffing appreciatively at the clean, comforting scent the angel gave off. He paused between each careful kiss, intent on taking what he could get but ready to stop as soon as Aziraphale expressed any discomfort. He worked his way to Aziraphale's ear, nipping his earlobe gently before pressing a deep kiss into the crease between ear and neck. He started to move down to the collarbone, pushing his face against the soft fabric that barred his access, each hot touch of mouth on skin eliciting a small moan of appreciation.

**⚕**

  
Aziraphale had leant his head back against the wall, glad he had taken the first step but equally glad that Crowley had now taken the reigns. Each exquisite movement the demon made against his skin burnt him deep into his stomach, like a sip of hot assam tea on a cold day, or a tot of 10 year Ardbeg whiskey on a chilly evening. His arms moved up to hold onto Crowley's deceptively strong shoulders as he felt his legs grow weaker with each press of lips against his skin, and one hand came up to clutch at the hair that tickled his face as Crowley continued his administrations. He hadn't thought about what would happen after kissing Crowley- he hadn't had any consideration for anything since rushing out of his shop and showing up at Crowley's apartment. He had every intention of spilling out his feelings, but no idea what would happen afterwards. He _still _hadn't managed the feeling part- but he was thoroughly enjoying the situation he now found himself in. He hadn't let himself consider these physical aspects- always writing them off as another unholy temptation of earth- and he already had enough of those. But there was no one watching anymore- at least they very much hoped that was the case. And so he finally let his thoughts drift away entirely, his gentle moans turning to a soft stream of babble...  
"That's feels so good...I didn't think... I couldn't imagine..."

At each bit of spoken praise Crowley worked more enthusiastically, nipping and then licking across his neck, following the curve up to his face, pausing at his temple and then working back to his mouth. Crowley's hands moved softly up and down, continuous movements along his sides, in equal parts soothing him and burning him up.

"You feel _so_ good...  
I _love_ this...  
I love _you_"

**⚕**

Aziraphale let out a gasp as Crowley pulled abruptly away, a wave of cold taking the place where his body had just been. Aziraphale automatically moved forward, his body seeking out the warmth it had just been enjoying, but he leant back again when he saw Crowley's face.   
"Don't say that" he ground out through gritted teeth.   
"Don't say that if you don't mean it" he found himself admitting.   
_"What the fuck am I doing"_ he thought to himself. _"Things were going great, you fucking idiot" _but he knew he couldn't ignore the wrenching feeling the words had caused deep in his chest.   
"It hurts too much. Too much hope" he ground out in a low voice.   
"What do you mean?" Aziraphale asked, worry knotting his brow together. His hands were flat against the wall as if to steady himself, and the passion in his eyes had been replaced with concern.  
_"Shit I said it out loud"_  
Should he try and play it cool? Was it too late for that?   
"I mean... I mean what I said. It hurts too much. To hope for anything more." He heard his voice crack slightly at the words, but there was no point in lying now.  
"I'm sorry" Aziraphale said simply.  
"I do mean it though" he continued earnestly. He too had decided that there was no point in hiding the truth any longer.   
"You... you do?" Crowley asked incredulously.   
"Well, yes." Aziraphale had hoped for a slightly better response than the irritation that was now occupying Crowley's handsome face.   
"Why didn't you bloody say so before!"   
"I was trying! I have only just worked it out really. And... it's hard you know, putting these... human feelings into words."   
"I get that angel, but you know I'm in the same boat as you. Always have been. Fallen divinity, human body, and all the mess that comes with it." He had spun away to pace a few steps, pushing both hands through his hair.   
"I know my dear, but even if we are in the same boat as it were, we're still in different cabin quarters. Angels have always been told to repress the human side during our work here. You've always been encouraged to pursue them." Aziraphale stayed where he was, his nervous energy causing him to freeze where he was while Crowley walked his off.   
"But that's not the case anymore and you know it! Don't blame _them_\- besides, it's not like you've repressed your urge to eat good food, read expensive books, take your little luxuries-"   
"No Crowley you're quite right. But unfortunately along with the positive human emotions there are the negative. Like fear"   
"Pfft, what could you possibly be scared of now?" Crowley answered scathingly, turning back and crossing the space between them in a few long strides.   
"Losing you." Aziraphale admitted quietly. Crowley stopped moving, and went to respond, probably to mention their already numerous occasions of potential loss of late.   
"I don't mean like that. You're my best friend. My _only_ friend really. We've been through so much that no one else will ever understand. Not the humans and their fleeting lives and not the angel's and demons who see the world so singularly. I cannot risk that. Not for emotions that I didn't know you'd return."   
A myriad of emotions flitted across Crowley's face, but he'd had enough of thinking and decided to put his feelings into action instead. His arms whipped out to land with a thud on the wall behind where Aziraphale still stood rooted to the spot, on either side of his head. Aziraphale reached up unthinkingly, and slowly removed the glasses from Crowley's face, folding them neatly. Crowley took them in one hand and then let them clatter to the ground.   
He let out a low growl of frustration and need and then leant down to kiss Aziraphale.  
He let all his emotion be conveyed in the hard press of his lips- he started gentle, checking Aziraphale was happy before starting to move his mouth, tongue seeking and finding a willing entrance. His hands moved to grasp Aziraphale's sides, moving to stroke his neck, cup his face, angle it for better access to his hot, soft mouth. Aziraphale had responded immediately, allowing his lips to be captured, the intensity of the kiss leaving his body pushing forward and his arms slung across Crowley's back.   
They pushed insistently at each other for a few minutes before the increasingly loud moans coming from Aziraphale caused Crowley to pull back slightly-   
"Is this ok?" He asked.

Aziraphale nodded, looking flushed and delirious but unabashedly joyful. He drew in a shaky breath and asked- 

"So that's a yes then? To returning my feelings?" His fingers idled up into Crowley's hair as he asked, almost as if of their own volition.   
"Yes you fool. I thought you felt love, how could you not have known?" He had spoken without thinking in his impatience to clear up the whole feelings debacle and get back to the physical aspect, and he momentarily furrowed his brow at the L word slipping out unbidden- but they'd gotten this far.   
"I do. Feel love that is. But I know how hard that is for a Demon and I didn't want to push you and how was I to know it was anything other than platonic-"   
"Oh not him again for crying out loud" Crowley mumbled as he pulled Aziraphale back in for another lengthy kiss. 

**⚕**

Crowley was now incredibly torn between the physical joy he felt from pressing his entire body against the object of his devotion, and the inexplicable knowledge that this glorious creature returned said affections. He too had only realised the depth of his feelings recently- a demon feeling lust was one thing, but admitting to himself that he was _in love_ was quite another. But he had recovered quickly. He had always held a deep sentiment toward the angel, but the near-enough end of existence as they knew it had pushed these feelings into a stark clarity. And unlike Aziraphale, he had found it slightly easier to just decide that hell could... well, go to hell. But now.... now he was swiftly loosing his thought pattern, his embarrassing memories of his rather dramatic response to the angel not immediately catching on and could focus _only _on the subject of every one of his fantasies writhing beneath him. And he was quite happy for that to be the case, to let finally let himself _go_. They had fought this for long enough.

He found himself overwhelmingly pleased that Aziraphale was in his comfortable but demure approximation of pyjamas- while he still had so much skin _covered up_, at least he wasn't overly wrapped in layers upon layers of vintage accoutrement- if Crowley say, _accidently_ ripped his soft long sleeved lounge top, it would be much easier to replace. He also had easier access- as he continued to alternate his lips between barely-there whisper-soft pecks and hard, passionate kisses, he lightly swept his fingers to the hem of Aziraphale's jumper, delighting in the little shivers that were produced when his fingertips brushed bare skin. He could hardly _not _notice the erection that was rubbing against his own groin, as Aziraphale's flannel trousers did little to hide it.

"I see we've made an Effort" he hissed into Aziraphale's ear, and leant back a few inches to watch with pleasure as a blush swept the angel's cheeks, adding to the already rosy hue from excitement and exertion that painted his pale skin.

"Yes well, only for authenticities sake you understand" He mumbled bashfully.

"So you've not taken it out for a spin yet?" Crowley asked with a devilish grin.

"Wha- no I haven't- oh!" Aziraphale quickly went from mild indignity at the question to an expression of pure bliss. Crowley was so damn excited at the prospect that he would be the first one to give this pleasure to Aziraphale, and he had placed a strategic thigh between Aziraphale's legs as he went back to avidly kissing his neck.   
"Oh... _yes_...oh- fuck!" Hearing Aziraphale curse only spurred him on more, as did the way he was rubbing himself against Crowley's thigh. 

**⚕**

He hadn't meant to swear, but his senses were so overwhelmed. He had felt slightly abashed at how swiftly his body has responded to Crowley, but the demon didn't seem to mind- in fact, he seemed spurred on and had only redoubled his efforts. He started to feel the desire burning up from inside of him, and he felt his own hips grinding into Crowley's leg, and it felt so _good_ he didn't have the wherewithal to feel anything other than gratification. The friction was delicious, his flannel trousers providing only a thin barrier to the leather-clad muscle presented to him. All the thoughts fled from his head as the feeling of pressure increased to a crescendo.

"I'm going to... I can _feel _it..." 

"I know angel... let it go" Crowley murmured in his ear, holding him tightly as he rucked against him. So he did. His eyes snapped shut and he continued to snap his pelvis forward as the feeling of indescribable _release_ shuttered through him. He clutched at Crowley's shoulders while the feeling wracked through him. He shuddered to a stop and once he regained his senses blinked up. 

"I'm... I'm sorry about that" He offered, seeming surprised at the entire situation. 

"Don't be angel, that was... that was incredible. Watching your face, watching you lose control. It was beautiful" He rubbed his hands up and down Aziraphale's upper arms. 

**⚕**

Crowley didn't think he'd ever seen the angel look more... angelic. He looked like he was glowing from the inside out, his hair mussed, his lips red and swollen and spread in a wide grin.

"I'm wet" He said with a small giggle.

"Yeah well, that does tend to happen" Crowley responded wryly. _"So adorable" _he thought. He didn't even question his own bathetic thoughts. He just basked in the light that Aziraphale was emitting.

"What... what now?" Aziraphale asked, looking at Crowley trustingly. 

"Whatever you want. Whatever _we_ want. What do you want angel?" He heard a slight tremble in his voice, a small second of concern. Was this a momentary lapse of judgement? Or worse- was this _exactly _what Aziraphale had wanted? Would he now say _thanks for that mate, off you go then, cheerio. _

"I want... I want to make you feel as... magnificent as I do right now" He responded, beaming up. He glanced down at where Crowley's own Effort was still straining against his impossibly tight trousers.

"Assuming that's what you want" Aziraphale continued, as if he already knew the answer. He did already know it. He _was _the answer.

"Yes...very much so" Crowley croaked back. He took the hand that was offered to him, and let himself be led back upstairs to where only a little while ago he had felt such contained anguish. Now he felt dazed and light and so incredibly _fond _of his... _"his lover"_ he thought with a fierce rush of pride. "_Another sin the angel elicited in him"_, he mused with a smirk. 

He looked around the intimate but comfortable bedroom they now stood in. Even more books lined the walls, and he was surprised to see a rather comfy-looking bed that sat in the middle, topped with multiple teddy fleece throws and fluffy pillows. Dim light cast a golden glow over everything, and outside the rain still pattered against the window, making the space feel even cosier. 

**⚕**

"I thought you weren't much of a sleeper angel" Crowley asked, taking in his surroundings.

"Not particularly, but I'm still more than happy to snuggle under some covers with a good book" Aziraphale responded, pulling Crowley further into the room.

"Oh I bet you do, you hedonist" Crowley murmured, his head dipping down to claim Aziraphale's neck. How did he manage to make even the simplest words sound so _filthy_. It was intoxicating, feeling so loved, and knowing it was in every single way possible. Aziraphale stepped back slightly, and for the second time that day, begun undressing himself in front of a demon.

"You too" he instructed. There was something oddly erotic about them both slowly removing layers, trying not to break eye contact between each item. Aziraphale finished first, and was about to reach out help Crowley along, but stopped to just take in the sight. Long planes of skin were bared, soft smatterings of hair dusting his chest and leading down to-

"Oh!" Aziraphale couldn't help but exclaim when he saw the long, proud cock standing to attention in front of him.

Crowley stood and let him stare, never having been one to shy away from outright appreciation of his limber form. In return he drank in the sight of his prudish angel. It was everything he had imagined, and so, so much more. So much bare pale skin, so soft and welcoming and _dazzling_. 

He moved slowly forward, and Aziraphale moved with him, clambering backwards onto the bed, never taking his eyes off of Crowley. An unaware outsider might view the way he moved now as almost _predatory_, all swivelling hips and a prowling gait as he crawled up onto the bed after Aziraphale. But it only took the angel a single glance into the serpentine eyes to see the _love _shining back at him. _"How could I have missed this before" _He thought to himself, as he laid back and watched Crowley slither sinuously over him. _"How could we both have been so blind. Both so perfectly good at hiding it from each other". _He reached up to cup the face before his- dishevelled hair stuck up at all angles, and he felt an electric jolt at seeing those gorgeous bright yellow eyes up close.

"You're so incredibly beautiful. I love you so very much" His tone tender, but his hands firm when Crowley tried to duck and hide his face. 

"I mean it. How foolish we've both been." He gently rubbed his thumbs along the sharp cheekbones under his hands. 

"I...I wasn't sure either. Whether you... felt the same. That's why I got mad. I thought... I felt that you _desired _me, thought you were. I dunno. Disgusted with yourself maybe."Crowley managed to get his face down this time.

"I know my love, shhh" Aziraphale stroked his hair, raking his fingers through the dark strands.

"I did desire you. I _do. _But I've only ever felt love. Maybe some annoyance, exasperation. But never disgust. The only thing that ever held me back is my own unawareness, my own fear. But not anymore. Never again. Let me show you" He continued stroking the form on top of him, skating his hands along the raised spine, drifting over the slim waist and then back up to that lovely face. He felt Crowley's body shudder and then relax, at which point Aziraphale gently clasped him and then reversed their positions. He straddled Crowley between his thighs, and watched the demon stretch back luxuriously on the mountain of eiderdown pillows. He looked up expectantly, waiting, trusting.

"Please. Please show me angel" He whispered.

Aziraphale lent forward, stretching out luxuriously to feel as much bare skin against his own as possible. He nuzzled gently into Crowley's neck, and then pushed more forcefully to gain better access to the delightful point between his neck and chin. Crowley had many layers of tantalising scents on him; Tom Ford's Private Blend Tuscan Leather Eau De Parfum; an almost imperceptible solvent smell that comes from every outfit being snapped fresh into existence; and an undertone of woody, animalistic musk. But the most titillating aromatic area was across his jaw line- Aziraphale inhaled deeply as he ran his nose across the sharp edge, feeling almost giddy at the tangy, almost spicy fragrance that emanated there. As he did so Crowley ran one hand up from the small of Aziraphale's back to his neck, and the other tangled in his soft curls. He buried his head in the mussed-up blond waves and groaned appreciatively.   
"You smell like... sandalwood. And vanilla. No... crème brûlée? Something sweet..." Crowley's voice trailed off into a mumble as he ran his face along Aziraphale's scalp, eliciting an answering sigh of pleasure.   
"How funny" Aziraphale responded, kissing his way along Crowley's jaw.   
"I was just thinking how glorious you smell- like cardamom" _*kiss* _  
"black oud" _*kiss* _  
"And... something scrummy. Like truffle. Like that delightful masala chai that we found in the Covent Garden arches" he glanced up expecting to be admonished for his emphatic olfactory appraisal- but he saw only intently staring yellow eyes, the usually thin vertical black pupil almost round in its dilation.   
Crowley was indeed about to remark on how ridiculously soppy they were being, but he stopped when he saw Aziraphale's eyes staring back- open and honest and filled with so much longing he was swiftly reminded of the other body parts vying for attention- one that was becoming insistent in making itself known.   
They were still for one more second before they both moved simultaneously. As Crowley reached forward to cup Aziraphale's face, Aziraphale caught his wrists and pushed down on them to hold the grasping hands still on either side of Crowley's head. Their mutual shock at Aziraphale taking the lead lasted a brief moment before their lips finally met.   
Aziraphale quickly tired of holding Crowley's arms down- he wanted his hands free to feel Crowley's chest, to flutter over his sharp collarbone before gripping more heavily onto his firm biceps. Crowley's hands had come up to circle Aziraphale as soon as they were free, alternately stroking feather-light touches along his curved sides between more forceful scratches that raked up his back.   
All the while their mouths ebbed and flowed against each other, hard pressed kisses of pent-up passion intermingled with slow languid tongues and then tiny, quick movements that dotted around each other's faces. Soon their mutual teasing became too much for either of them to bear. Aziraphale began working his way back down the bed, stopping to press kisses into Crowley's lean body. Along the side of his chest, stopping teasingly at a nipple as he moved along, pushing into the delicate ribs and then the dip where his hipbone jutted out.

Aziraphale lapped at the joint, holding his hands on Crowley's waist to stop him writhing around. He kissed in lazy circles, up and down Crowley's thighs, his pelvis, _so _close to his stiff penis- but not quite.

"Eugh I never knew you were such a _tease_ angel" Crowley groaned. 

"Whatever you do you mean my dear" Aziraphale replied, casting a cheeky smile up as he continued his agonisingly slow circle, angling his head to _just _miss the body part which was straining for contact. He paused for a moment, contemplating his next move. He _knew _the logistics of giving oral pleasure. He wasn't completely ignorant of human sexual interactions. But in _practice_\- it had been easy so far, so _natural_\- but what if he wasn't any good?

He looked up again-

"I... I want to take you in my mouth" He stated, watching for Crowley's reaction.   
Crowley let out something between a gasp and a groan, accompanied by an involuntary tilt of his pelvis.

"Ugh, I love it when you talk dirty angel- but you don't need to announce it. I'll take whatever you have to give". 

Aziraphale paused again.

"What if I'm not any good at this?"

"Angel, everything you do, and everything about you is good for me." Crowley pushed himself up on his arms to look at Aziraphale properly. 

"Actually, I've got something for you. For, erm... this situation. It's stupid. It's gonna seem really, ah, presumptuous." He saw Aziraphale perk up slightly.  
"Gimme one sec... it's in my flat somewhere" He concentrated for a minute- it didn't _really_ constitute a miracle if the object already existed. It just needed to move slightly through space. Not far at all.

A small bottle appeared on the bed beside them. Aziraphale read the label on the front-

"So Divine Prosecco Flavoured Lubricant?" 

"I was in a shop in Soho, tempting and all that, you know how it goes. And I saw that and I thought of... well I thought of you" He waited for the reaction. Should he have waited before bringing this up? It was weird enough that he'd even bought it, before this whole thing even between them came to fruition.

"Oh Crowley, that's really rather sweet of you! Fancy thinking of me when you should be, oh wiling away or whatever it is you do" Crowley looked pleased at his well-received gift, then he gasped at the cold sensation of lubricant coating his cock.

"Sorry love, got over excited. You are laying there looking rather ravishing" Aziraphale grinned, already flinging the bottle aside and settling down on his stomach between Crowleyls legs.

"Patience is a virtue ang-oh!" Aziraphale has started to lick up the sides of his shaft, lapping up the glistening lubricant, humming appreciatively at the flavour and the sensation of Crowley's hot skin against his wet tongue. Patience was indeed considered a virtue by most people, but neither men seemed able to produce any at this point in time. Crowley's hands came down to grip gently at Aziraphale's curls, and he tried to stop himself bucking upwards towards the beautiful face that hovered above his groin.

Aziraphale was sure that this particular endeavour was one he would return too (and he briefly wondered what other potential flavours might be present the assortment of shops in his neighbourhood) but for now he wanted to simply share the pleasure he felt with Crowley- and so he opened his mouth and took Crowley whole inside of it. He looked up as Crowley let out a relief-laden groan, clutching harder at Aziraphale's hair. He didn't seem to be pushing or even guiding Aziraphale's current work, only attempting to ground himself as he felt the angel's tongue start to swirl around his member, and then the movement of his lips as he bobbed his head up and down. As he rose up, he paused, lingering at the head, listening for the sounds that told him he was hitting the most sensitive spots- he flicked his tongue lightly at the underside, enjoying the jolting reaction it elicited. He tasted a slightly salty flavour through the sweetness of the lube and moaned appreciatively, moving his hands down to grip Crowley's thighs. He begun moving his head in earnest, following the subtle movements and noises Crowley was making.

"Angel, I don't think I'm gonna last much longer" He heard the demon rasp out from above him.

"If you don't wanna... you should stop now..." He grunted out, but Aziraphale just held his legs and continued on. He increased his pace and focused intently on sucking deep into his mouth. One hand crept from Crowley's thigh to his balls and he gently massaged them, causing him to climax furiously with a loud yelp. He threw his head back and his fingers clenched tightly in Aziraphale's hair while his hips jerked forward of their own accord.

Aziraphale kept gently moving throughout the orgasm, swallowing Crowley's spend with the sort of thoughtful expression you would expect on a restaurant reviewer as opposed to a man experiencing spunk in his mouth for the first time. Crowley's shudders slowed and he pulled Aziraphale up to his chest. He immediately snuggled his head into the bony crevice of his collarbone as if it was made for this, as if they'd been doing this all their lives. Once they both regained their composure, Crowley peered down at the soft face resting against his chest, their arms and legs tangled together.

"Angel. What the actual fuck was that?" He asked. Aziraphale's expression clouded immediately.

"Oh no, was it not very pleasant? I did say to you-"  
"No, no it was incredible. I just.... have you done that before?"

"Nope" Aziraphale chirped, now looking smug and rather proud of himself.

"Then how-"  
"Well I just did what felt... right. And I've read _quite _a few copies of a magazine called _Cosmopolitan_. Most instructive in these matters" 

"And you know, most people don't swallow..."  
"Well I wanted to see how it tasted"  
"Of course you did angel. So... what else have you learnt from _Cosmopolitan_?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you spot a mistake  
Tell me if you like it  
Tell me what will make you ache  
This bitch'll make it holy writ ;D


	4. I don't believe in luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like smut, headcanon, smut, headcanon

“Hmm” Aziraphale pondered

“I’ve read of lot of things. I’m not sure how accurate they all are though. I think _you _should show _me _something.” He angled his head upwards so he could look at Crowley through his lashes. Crowley looked back indulgently.

“I’ll show you whatever you want angel. The whole world. Or just this room and everything we can do in it, for days on end. Or we could go for breakfast first?” He felt Aziraphale shift slightly, already starting to get hard at the words.

“Or not then” He said with a smirk. He rolled over to lay on top of Aziraphale, letting him feel his full weight along his body. He focused on breathing for a while, sharing their heat, feeling their penises twitch slightly between them.

“What do you want angel. Tell me and it’s yours” He lifted up slightly, and begun lazily dotting barely-there kisses over Aziraphale’s neck and chest.

Aziraphale struggled to focus under the overwhelmingly gentle onslaught. The feather light touch of Crowley’s lips still managed to burn him up from the inside. He licked his lips in anticipation and looked up, waiting for Crowley to stop his ministrations and look him in the eyes.

“Have you thought about this? Before?” Crowley cast a long glance over the body in front of him.  
“Yes” He said quietly

“About… what you would do?”

“Oh yes angel, so many times, you have no idea” He groaned, dropping his head down again to press more kisses against Aziraphale’s collarbone, who wriggled happily in response.

“We’ll do that then. Whatever comes to mind. Whatever you imagined most”

Crowley gaped at him, quickly recovered and then leant down to whisper darkly in Aziraphale’s ear.

“Ok. I want to be as close to you as possible. I want to watch you squirm with pleasure underneath me, while I’m inside you. I want to watch you fall apart, while I do the same, feeling your body clench around mine in the throes of ecstasy. That ok?”

Aziraphale nodded weakly.

“I want that too” He whispered.

Crowley set to task working Aziraphale up, running his hands over his arms, his sides, pushing his fingers through his soft curls, rubbing against him in _just _the right spot. He leant forward and sucked furiously on one of Aziraphale’s nipples, relishing the feeling of the hips bucking up against his own in response. He ran his left hand up to brush Aziraphale’s flushed cheek and then curl in his hair, while the other worked its way down to his lower half. He hooked a thigh and pulled upwards, curling Aziraphale’s body around his own. He stroked gently at Aziraphale’s member, lightly moving his fingertips over the delicate spot just under the tip. He sat up to admire the heavily breathing angel before him, and then reached for the earlier discarded lube.

**⚕**

Aziraphale watched with mounting excitement as Crowley coated his hands and then reached slowly down between them. He deliberately rubbed around Aziraphale’s opening, and Aziraphale moaned at the incredible sensation. He grasped at Crowley’s arms, aching for _more_. He struggled to keep his eyes open, neck arching back as Crowley carefully inserted a single digit, pushing himself toward the hand against him but being met with a stubborn, cautious _delicious_ steadiness. Another finger was _s l o w l y _added, probing against his walls, crooking into that _spectacular _bundle of nerves. 

“Now Crowley, I can’t wait any longer” He whined, tipping his head forward again to meet Crowley’s lustful gaze.

“Please, _please…_”

“Ready?” Crowley asked huskily, withdrawing his fingers and lining up his own leaking cock with Aziraphale’s entrance.

A tiny streak of trepidation flashing through his mind- but it only took one look at the man above him- looking so _hungry_ but so loving, so concerned and poised as he waited for assent. Aziraphale nodded, and then bit his lip as Crowley begun easing himself inside.

Aziraphale’s mind went blank for a moment- he felt so excited, which seemed a little daft and juvenile- but it felt so _good_ to be doing this, for the first time, with the person he loved. Crowley slowly, finally bottomed out, and then stopped, and they both enjoyed the feeling of being joined, whole. He stared up in awe at the face above him, smiling at the intense look of concentration spread across it and reached up to stroke a cheekbone. Crowley started moving, gently at first, watching Aziraphale’s face, but then begun to increase his speed as their mutual pleasure built.

Aziraphale slung his arms around the slender body above him, and then allowed the feelings to wash over him. He could tell from the look on Crowley’s face that he was nearing his climax, and he gasped when Crowley reached down to stroke Aziraphale’s member in time with his thrusts. He couldn’t hear anything other than their ragged panting, intimate moans and the sound of flesh hitting flesh- which only spurred them both on even more.

The dual-feeling of Crowley’s hand around his cock and his member filling him up pushed Aziraphale over the edge, and as he clenched he felt Crowley come too, the warmth he previously felt inside him spilling even further. He felt his arms clench automatically, drawing Crowley forward, who responded by planting kisses over Aziraphale’s forehead and cheeks. He basked in the feeling, and clung tighter as Crowley finally stopped moving.

“Thank you” Aziraphale said quietly into the peace that surrounded them.

“That was… beautiful”

Crowley looked up blearily, and then chuckled.

“Thank _you _angel” he responded, laying his head back down.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**⚕**

A little while later, after the night had again lightened into day, they were half-dozing, sated, just enjoying the closeness and warmth between them. Neither man felt particularly willing to leave the room, the bed, the warm cocoon they had created with their embrace.

Crowley had wrapped his angular frame around Aziraphale’s soft one, his chest to Aziraphale’s back, his arms wrapped possessively around the other man's middle.

"Crowley" Aziraphale stirred softly in his arms, turning his head slightly to peek up through his tousled curls.

"Yes angel"

"What _does_ the J in your name stand for?"

“What?”

“The J in your name. What does it really stand for.”

"Why cant it jus' be a J?"

"It can just be a J. But I know it isn't" Crowley raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"I know when you're evading the truth. And now... now there is no space left between us" He wriggled backwards to illustrate his point, soliciting a groan. Crowley started to move his hands suggestively along Aziraphale’s hips but Aziraphale studiously ignored them.

"None of that until you answer my question" he said firmly, ignoring the erection that was already starting to form between his legs. His body responded instantaneously to Crowley’s touch, but his infinite appetite for knowledge and answers just barely won out over his carnal urges.  
Crowley groaned again, burying his face into the back of Aziraphale’s neck.

"You know angel" he whispered silkily against his ear

"You wouldn't _really_ be able to resist me"

"No. But you wouldn't not tell me something if I asked"

"Fine" Crowley huffed, rolling his eyes even though Aziraphale couldn't see.  
He turned onto his back and spoke to the ceiling.

"My middle name is Jerome"

"Jerome!"

"Yes angel, Jerome. Now can we get back to-"

"Why Jerome! And why wouldn't you tell anyone."

"Because" Crowley gritted out

"It's embarrassing and it's... it's something I did, just for me to know."  
Aziraphale had turned over onto his other side so he could face Crowley, and now he only watched silently as Crowley continued glaring at the ceiling.

"Euuuuuugh. It was to remind me of you. You know, between our meetings. I didn’t want another A. So... it's for Saint Jerome"  
He turned his head tentatively as Aziraphale remained silent. He thought he saw a glint in his eye. He hoped he wouldn't laugh at him. He'd laughed at himself when he chose it, but had gone ahead anyway.

"Because he's the patron saint of-

"Of librarians. I know." There was a second of silence, and Crowley braced himself, which was just as well because Aziraphale launched himself onto Crowley’s chest, hugging him fiercely.

"You soppy old serpent! That's the absolute dearest thing"

"Shut up" Crowley bit out

"That really is the most terribly sweet-"

"I regret telling you now!"

"Don't." Aziraphale reached out to stroke Crowley’s stubborn-set jaw, and the demon responded by grabbing the hand and kissing the palm.

"It's... really rather moving. To think that you thought so fondly of me, so long ago"

"Not _that_ long ago, not in the grander scheme of things. Anyway, how long have you felt _fond_ towards me" Crowley asked.

"I'm not telling"

"Oh really?"

"No."

"You want me to make you?"

"...yes"

Crowley spun them around so that Aziraphale was pressed into the bed, his squirming body pinned by Crowley’s, his hands held above his head.

"Now angel" Crowley said sternly

"Um-hmm" Aziraphale tried to focus through the haze of desire and anticipation that had flooded him.

"We're gonna have a safe word ok. You wanna stop at any time, you say... bentley"

"Bentley?"

"Yeah in case I go too fast" Crowley said with a smirk, before swooping down to capture the angel’s lips. He pushed his body insistently at Aziraphale’s, alternating between grinding and then teasingly removing contact before he allowed Aziraphale too much friction. He kept both of the angel’s soft hands in one of his own, the other tracing down his body. He straddled Aziraphale’s plush hips between his lithe thighs to stop him moving.

“I’m going to let go of your hands now angel” He said softly.

“If you move them, you will be made to wait even longer” He menaced.

“Understand?”  
Aziraphale nodded. Crowley started moving up and down the angel’s prone body, murmuring as he did

“That’s it my lovely, so soft, so obedient. But not entirely hmm? Ready to talk yet?”

Aziraphale shuddered but didn’t say anything. And so Crowley continued, lightly kissing here and there, dotting kisses and fingertips across Aziraphale’s ribs and stomach, chest and neck. Aziraphale stayed quiet even as he started to writhe at the exquisite teasing.

“Sooo stubborn angel… but for how long… tell me angel. Tell me how long”  
He amped up his efforts slightly, but remained painstakingly, persistently deliberate and light in his touches. He grabbed one side of Aziraphale’s fleshy hips and rolled him onto his stomach, and then started raking his nails over the flushed back. The squirming increased, and yet he didn’t relent- and went back to softly circling the tops of the backs of Aziraphale’s quivering thighs. Finally, just when Crowley thought _he _couldn’t take it any longer, Aziraphale turned his head and shouted out-

‘Always! So so long, you have no idea, _fuck_, more each time I saw you, every time, still every time, now stop teasing me and _fuck _me Crowley” The demon grinned as he flipped Aziraphale once more onto his back.

“Wonderful. And to think of all the times we have left before us”

**⚕**  
  
  
  
It was another month later and the two ethereal beings in Male human form had fallen quite easily (no pun intended) into a domestic routine.  
They shared their breakfast (a strong black coffee for one, an elegant brunch-worthy spread for the other) shared their thoughts, shared many comfortable silences as well as quite raucous nights- and also happened to have a shared desire to see what having a beard was like.  
  
"You look like a rather dashing corsair my dear" Aziraphale mused, running his hand over Crowley’s neat, dark facial hair.

"In a good way?" He asked

"Oh very much so" Aziraphale responded coyly

"I'll keep it then, for now. Yours makes you looks like a Greek philosopher. I'd be quite impressed if I didn't know what a daft softie was underneath" Crowley quipped, gently prodding Aziraphale's torso as he spoke, eliciting a fake admonishment in response.

"Speaking of which I suppose I should send a hair clipping to Athens to thank Plato for finally spurring you into action" Aziraphale harrumphed at Crowley’s gentle mocking tone.

"Firstly my dear, all of your pretty hair is mine and mine alone, and none shall be sent anywhere, by Charon or otherwise" Crowley lips quirked into a smile at the possessive comment but carried on listening

"And secondly, well. It wasn’t actually Plato that spurred me into action as such, rather he provided the theorem to bring my desires into fruition"

"So who was it then" Crowley asked

"Hmm?" Aziraphale hummed non-committedly, trying and failing miserably to pretend all questions had been answered, not helped by the faint blush that had begun spreading across his cheeks.

"You heard me. And I heard you. You said it wasn't Plato who spurred you along, implying that someone else did- so come on, out with it" Crowley commanded, increasing his pokes to Aziraphale’s soft body.

"Don't make me _make_ you tell me." (Crowley found it both amusing and useful that he could now arouse and then tease Aziraphale into telling him anything, not that he usually needed convincing)  
Aziraphale huffed a sigh- and then begrudgingly admitted-

"Well it was actually that rather marvellous Long Play record you left behind that night..."

"Wait a minute" Crowley interjected with a splutter

"You're telling me, that after millennia in each other’s lives, of which you've spent copious amounts of time reading vast amounts of literature, listening to the produce of the greatest musical minds- you were spurred into telling me how you felt after listening to Billie Eilish? Music that came about a whole half-a-century _after_ the so called 'be-pop' of mine that you were so quick to deride?"

"It was your record" Grumbled Aziraphale as  
Crowley laughed gleefully. However his tone quickly turned gentle when he saw his love's downfallen face.

"I'm joking Angel. I’m obviously a fan myself, I just never expected something so... _current _to have such an affect! It's quite funny, 'specially with your lofty ideals on the merit of popular music" He stroked his long fingers over the soft round face that now pouted half-heartedly at him.

"I s'pose I'm eternally grateful to her musical genius then"

"She is rather extraordinary for her age isn't she. And the record you left behind hit me right in the feels, as it were"  
Crowley gawped at Aziraphale's turn of phrase.

"And when did you start talking like that!" He exclaimed. Aziraphale blushed an even darker shade than he already had, and his mildly embarrassed yet proud expression caused a rush of love to crash over Crowley. He wondered idly if that would ever stop happening? He hoped not.

"When you were gone. In between all my reading, I did some browsing and discovered a host of information on the internet. I had to upgrade my little old computer of course, but I found memes and rabbit holes and 'yeet' and-" Crowley stopped him mid-sentence with a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I think that's enough of that for now Angel. I'll never find fault with you, but I kiiiinda liked your old-timey way of taking. Made me feel cool" he admitted bashfully, pushing his face into Aziraphale's neck to hide from those all-seeing azure eyes.

"Well my dear, we certainly couldn't have that! Worry not- you're infinitely 'cooler' than I or any other person, celestial or otherwise, could ever hope to be" he said fondly

"Great, that has always been my main concern in life" Crowley replied, sarcasm layered over his true pleasure at the Angel's words.

"Except for Billie Eilish" Aziraphale clarified.

"Except for Billie" Crowley confirmed, quirking an eyebrow at his little fanboy. Always full of surprises. And always with more up his sleeve...

"Do you think she'll sing at our wedding?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far- thank you.  
I love that I've been able to add a little something to this beautiful, broad and loyal fandom.  
I've purged my own wee contribution- and here is where I end, unless I receive requests, suggestions, or divine (or occult) inspiration.  
Swan pics on request

**Author's Note:**

> Songs quoted (In italics and between apostrophes) are  
"Ocean Eyes" sung by Billie Eilish, written and produced by Finneas O'Connell, Darkroom and Interscope Records  
"When the Party's Over" sung by Billie Eilish, written and produced by Finneas O'Connell, Darkroom and Interscope Records


End file.
